


Keys to the Kingdom

by Lush_Specimen



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Job Interview, Reruns Zine, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-05 20:32:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19047880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lush_Specimen/pseuds/Lush_Specimen
Summary: Finally finding a place where he felt like he belongs, Riptide asks Swerve for a job at his bar. Swerve agrees to offer him a job if he can pass the legendary "Swerve's Interview Test", which he totally isn't just making up as he goes along. It's all fun and games until the sparkeater shows up.I wrote this super cute piece for the Reruns Zine!





	Keys to the Kingdom

**Author's Note:**

> Woo! I am so happy to finally share this adorable fic! Working on the Reruns Zine was a great experience. We had a really creative group and assembled a great tribute my favorite comic of all time!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who supported us!!

Riptide sat in the corner of the bar, staring into the glass of engex he’d been nursing all night but it still didn’t have any answers for him. Everyone else had staggered home long ago. He waited until Swerve had already waved goodnight to Ten before chugging the rest of his drink. Riptide finally gathered his datapad and his courage and went to talk to the red and white bartender. 

“Swerve?” he asked, tentatively tapping him on the shoulder with a clawed finger. 

“Ow!” Swerve winced. 

“Sorry!” Riptide jumped and reflexively withdrew his hand. 

“You’re fine; it’s just an old injury playing up.” 

“I just… I need to talk to you!” 

“Make it quick!” He washed Riptide’s empty glass and rolled his shoulder. “It’s way past closing time. I don’t need Ultra Magnus busting me for keeping non-business hours, especially since I don’t even have a business permit in the first place.” 

“I was wondering…” Riptide looked up, hope sparkling in his gold optics, “If you need any extra help around the bar?” 

“You? Wanna work for me?” Swerve’s jaw dropped. “Why?” 

Riptide shrugged, his easy grin revealing a row of shark teeth, “I like it here. It feels more like home than anywhere else I’ve ever been, and I’ve been a lot of places. I never really belonged anywhere before, not like here.” 

Swerve’s face lit up bright pink, “Please don’t say that you’re just teasing, my spark couldn’t take it!” 

“No way!” Riptide shook his head, “I’m super serious! I think a lot of the crew feels the same too, they’re just even worse at putting it into words than I am.” 

Recovering from his shock, Swerve leaned on the bar a mischievous smile spreading across his face, “So, the young padawan wishes to become my apprentice?” 

“Umm… I don’t know what that means,” Riptide cocked his head to one side. “Should I be offended?” 

“It depends on your opinion of the prequels,” Swerve shrugged. “Earth pop culture. You gotta know a lot more than how to pour drinks if you’re gonna work here. In fact, pouring drinks is probably the least important part about tending bar. I mean, anybody can do that. Tell you what, if you pass the legendary Swerve’s Interview Test, you’re in!” 

“Aww! I’m terrible at tests,” Riptide whined. “Can I at least use my notes?” He held up his datapad for Swerve to inspect. 

“These are just doodles.” 

“Hell yeah they are!” Riptide nodded, looking very pleased with himself. “I’ve been taking notes on everything that goes on in here. Pictures just make more sense to me.” 

“Ok fine!” Swerve handed him back his visual notes. “First question: Let’s say Tailgate is inviting everyone back to his habsuite for an after-party. Cyclonus just found out and is headed this way with murder on his mind. What do you do?” 

“That’s an easy one,” Riptide waved dismissively. “Play Cyclonus’ favorite song, ‘The Power of Love’ by Huey Lewis and the News. It gets him every time.” 

“I’m impressed,” Swerve nodded. “You have been paying attention. Score one point! How about this: Ultra Magnus walks in-” 

“Is it a karaoke night?” Riptide cut him off. 

“Let’s say that it is.” 

“Give him a corner booth and a weak energon spritzer. He will work quietly on his datapad all night. Then after everyone else is gone, he’ll want to sing a few songs by the Backstreet Boys before closing.” 

“You’re good!” Swerve chuckled. “But, what if it’s not karaoke night and ol’ Mags asks to see your bartender’s license.” 

“I don’t have one,” Riptide replied, obviously confused. 

“And now you’re in the brig! Minus one point!” 

“Oh scrap! Please, let me try again,” Riptide pleaded. “I can do better! I swear!” 

“Alright, alright, you can play your one ‘get out of jail free’ card,” Swerve relented, amused by how serious Riptide was taking the interview. “So, how are you gonna dodge Mags' question?” 

Riptide pondered this conundrum, absent-mindedly tapping on his pointed chin while deep in thought. Suddenly his golden optics lit up bright with mischief. “I would tell him,” Riptide leaned on the bar with one elbow, a conspiratorial grin spreading across his face, “That I heard Mirage removed parts of the fire sprinkler system over the bar in Visages because it clashed with his décor.” 

“Oh Primus!” Swerve doubled over in laughter. “Distracting Mags and sabotaging the competition! That’s just devious! I love it! That answer totally cancels out your earlier minus point.” 

“Awesome!” Riptide beamed, bouncing with excitement. “Does that mean I got the job?” 

“Like Bilbo Baggins said ‘third time pays for all.’ Let’s have one final question: What would you do with-” a sharp metallic screech rattled the closed doors. “A SPARKEATER!!” Swerve shouted and quickly dove behind the bar. 

“A SPARKEATER!? I thought those didn’t even exist!” Riptide hopped over the bar to cower beside Swerve. The shriek of claws scraping against the metal doors split the silence. “There’s nothing in my notes about that! Has anything like this ever happened before?” Riptide whispered, wrapping himself around the smaller bot. 

“Only once,” Swerve shivered. 

Another screech echoed through the empty bar, followed by a hollow thud and a burst of muffled laughter. Riptide and Swerve stared at each other as the giggling continued. 

“Oh Primus!” Swerve muttered dragging a palm down his face as the tension melted out of his shoulders. “I know what this is all about. Come on.” Swerve shook his head and moseyed towards the sounds of the disturbance. Riptide followed closely, his large frame hunched cautiously behind the diminutive bartender. 

Swerve opened the door to find a large green recovery vehicle attempting to knock by swinging his tow hook, gouging several long scratches into the shiny surface. Trailcutter, sprawled over the truck’s hood, lit up with a lopsided grin when he saw Swerve. 

“Swerve! Guess what?” Trailcutter whispered extremely loudly. “Me and Hoist locked ourselves out of our room! Again!” Both of them dissolved into uncontrollable laughter like they just heard the funniest joke ever told. 

“Do you see what I have to deal with,” Swerve sighed over his shoulder to Riptide. “Little known fact, I hold spare room keys for some of my regulars for just such an occasion.” He tossed Riptide a gold key on a Millennium Falcon keychain. “You lock up the bar while I see these two lugnuts safely home before Mags cites all of us for disturbing the peace.” 

Riptide caught the key with both hands like it was a precious gem and stared at Swerve, mouth agape in disbelief. 

“That means you’re hired by the way,” Swerve grinned as he nudged Hoist in the right direction. “If this place feels like home to everyone, it needs to be in good hands. Honestly, the most important thing is just wanting to be here, and you already have that covered. Your training begins tomorrow, my young apprentice!” 

“Really?” Riptide squeaked, a broad smile slowly growing across his face. He looked from the key to Swerve and back again. “What time?” 

“The crack of noon should do it!” Swerve replied. “See you then!” Turning to Hoist and Trailcutter, Swerve gently prodded them along, despite their relentless giggling and erratic driving. 

Riptide returned to the bar and turned off the main lights. Before locking the door, he turned the key over in his hands, admiring the dim light dancing across the gold finish. He never had his own key to anything before. When he left Cybertron aboard the Lost Light he hoped to find adventure, but he never dreamed that he’d find home. 

Clicking the lock closed, Riptide glanced down the hall at the sound of poorly muffled laughter. He took out his datapad and made a quick sketch of Swerve wrangling his wayward customers, now both in vehicle mode. He tucked the key away with a smile and went to help, might as well start his training right now.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you for reading!   
> If you want some more Swerve and Riptide bar shenanigans (with a dash of Minimegs) check out my other work "Gone with the Sprinklers"
> 
> I appreciate your kudos and love reading your comments!!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at: lush-specimen.tumblr.com


End file.
